‘It’s not so unusual—not here,’ Alex told her easily. ‘There are families who, after the repatriation of property following on from the Velvet Revolution, now own a handful of such places. Fortunately for us we only ever owned this one. I say fortunately because the cost of maintaining such homes can be prohibitive, as you can imagine.
‘In my family’s case we were fortunate in that much of the original furniture had been left in situ, and the castle had been lived in by a government official—or rather a succession of them—rather than simply left empty. Some of the more valuable pieces have gone, of course, and the paintings—family portraits in the main.
‘As with many others of its type, the renovations to the original castle were done at the height of the influence of the Hapsburgs; there is a very strong Viennese influence in the decor of the state apartments. Let me show you.’
Still trying to take in the fact that this place, this castle, belonged to Alex’s family, Beth followed him in bemusement as he led the way through a succession of rooms that made Beth feel as though she had stepped back in time. Although she was familiar with the style and decor of many of the great houses at home, the intricately lavish rococo plasterwork which decorated the walls and ceilings of the rooms she walked through made her gasp a little in wonderment.
In one room, a salon of elegant proportions, she couldn’t help staring in delight at the soft watery green of the paintwork. Mirrors alternating with pastoral scenes decorated the walls, and hanging from the centre of the ceiling was the most magnificent chandelier she had ever seen.
‘Ah, yes, that was how the family originally came to own the castle in the first place,’ Alex told her ruefully. ‘They made chandeliers for the Hapsburg court.’
‘Does your family actually live here?’ Beth asked him in an awed whisper.
‘When they are here, yes. Although the state rooms are only used on formal occasions. The whole family comes and goes pretty much at will, although during the working week my cousins and my aunt stay in Prague, where they own a large apartment. This is the drawing room the family uses,’ Alex informed her, taking her through into another elegantly proportioned room which, whilst still magnificent, was less heavily decorated than the rooms she had just seen—and more comfortably furnished.
‘Are any members of your family here now?’ Beth asked him curiously.
Alex shook his head, frowning as he saw the way she shivered and then going over to the fire which was made up in the grate. Kneeling down to remove a box of matches from a pretty covered box, he lit the fire.
‘No. My aunt would have been here, but there was a burglary at the factory recently. Some antique glass was stolen—my aunt is very distressed. She blames herself. My cousins, her sons, have been urging her for some time to have a more up-to-date burglar and security system fitted at the factory as the collection of antique glassware they have there is quite unique. They have samples of the kind of glass they make going back right to the late 1600s—but my aunt, who is very much a traditionalist and a matriarch of the old school, wanted to wait until their current night-watchman, who is approaching retirement, had actually left.
‘She told my cousins that it would offend Peter’s pride if they were to install a security system whilst he was still there, and she didn’t want to hurt him by doing so. Now she says that because of her stubbornness not only has a priceless collection of glass been stolen, but, even worse, Peter is in hospital with concussion, having been hit on the head by the gang who broke in.’
‘Oh, no!’ Beth couldn’t help exclaiming in distress as she listened to him. ‘Will he...the night-watchman...be all right?’
‘We hope so. But until she knows that he has recovered my aunt refuses to leave the city.’
‘Does she know you’ve brought me here...to her home? Will she mind?’
Alex shook his head.
‘It was her suggestion that I do so. She is immensely proud of our family tradition and of this place.’
‘Yes, I’m sure she is,’ Beth agreed.
The heat from the fire was beginning to warm her chilled body, but she still winced as lightning tore a jagged line right through the thick greyness of the mist outside. There was a loud clap of thunder and then almost immediately another flash of lightning.
‘Don’t worry, we’re safe in here,’ Alex comforted her, adding more prosaically, ‘Are you hungry?’
Beth discovered a little to her own surprise that she was, and nodded.
‘You stay here, then,’ Alex instructed her. ‘I shan’t be long.’
He was gone about fifteen minutes, long enough for Beth to be curious enough to wander around the room studying the family photographs decorating the highly polished surfaces of the heavy wooden furniture.
In one of them an unexpectedly familiar face stared back at her. Picking it up, she studied it.
She was still holding it a few seconds later when Alex returned, carrying what looked like a large picnic hamper.
‘Is this your aunt?’ she asked him, holding the photograph she had been studying out to him.
‘Yes. It is,’ he confirmed, smiling at her. ‘How did you guess?’
Beth said nothing. She wasn’t going to tell him that she had known because she’d recognised the woman as the same one she had seen him with in the hotel in Prague, and then at the opera, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell him just what assumptions she had made about the two of them. It had never occurred to her that the elegant and obviously expensively dressed woman might be a member of Alex’s family, and not a rich tourist for whom he was working.
‘Food,’ Alex informed her as he put the hamper down. ‘I’ll just—’ He broke off as the thunder crashed again and all the lights suddenly went out.
Cursing, Alex told her ruefully, ‘I should have guessed this might happen. Fortunately my aunt always keeps a supply of candles to hand in every room. The electricity supply here is notorious for its unreliability, and these storms don’t exactly help.’ As he spoke he was pulling open the drawers in a pretty sofa table and setting candles in a couple of heavy silver candelabra on the mantelpiece above the fire.